Superstition
by elbcw
Summary: The Musketeers stop overnight in a village where the locals are not as friendly as they could be.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors note: For those that need to know...this is probably marginally Athos centric. Whump for Athos and Aramis (mainly Aramis), angst for all. **

Chapter One

The nights were drawing in, Athos looked up, the moon was already starting to stand out starkly against the darkening sky. The full moon would provide enough light for them to make it all the way to Paris if they had wanted to ride through the night. They had already been riding for several hours, which when added to the several days of riding meant that all four of them were exhausted and ready for a break.

They had discussed pushing on but had unanimously decided a couple of hours before that they would stop in the next village and get some much-needed rest and sleep before the final leg of their journey. If they could return to the Palace at least alert and able to give their report efficiently it would give a better impression than four tired and haggard-looking Musketeers appearing before the King.

The village was small but did have a tavern, Athos knew it had a couple of rooms for travellers. He had not stayed there but had passed through a few times. The place was nothing special, a collection of haphazard buildings of varying quality and size around a central clearing with a well. A large tree with widespread branches stood at one side of the clearing. A couple of benches and tables sat under the tree, no doubt in a position that they would be shaded from the sun in the summer months.

Athos looked around as they slowed their horses to a stop. He could not see any villagers about. He thought it odd that no one had stepped out of their home to watch the four soldiers go past. It would not have been unusual to have people passing through, but at the time of night they had arrived, they might have caused a bit of interest. Most villages had two or three gossips who were ever alert to all and every occurrence.

The stables at the side of the tavern were small, but as there were no other horses the Musketeers had their pick of the six stalls. A boy of no more than ten appeared. He looked at them wide-eyed for a few seconds before d'Artagnan indicated that they were not a threat. The boy collected hay and water for the horses. His apprehension of the soldiers soon changed when Aramis dropped a few coins into his hand. The boy stared at the money for a few seconds before looking up at the four of them and beaming. He thrust the coins into the pocket of his slightly worn and oversized doublet before grabbing a pile of blankets to throw over each horse.

Satisfied that their mounts were going to be taken care of the four tired soldiers made their way to the tavern.

'Yes messieurs?' said an older man who greeted them as they entered.

The man, in a brown apron, with a damp cloth slung over his shoulder, looked them up and down for a few seconds before continuing before he got an answer.

'You'll be wanting a couple of rooms,' he said. 'And a good meal, no doubt.'

The man glanced around for a few seconds before spotting what he was looking for.

'Sarah, show these men the rooms and then sort them out with some food and wine.'

'Thank you, monsieur,' said Athos as he held out some money.

The tavern-keeper took the money with a nod of thanks before making his way back to the busy bar area. Several people were sat near the bar with drinks in front of them. Mostly men, but several women were dotted about the room. The villagers were watching the Musketeers. The room had not become silent and awkward as could happen when they entered a tavern that was not in the centre of Paris, but they were certainly the focus of attention. Athos guessed that the late hour and the somewhat travel-worn dishevelment of the four of them would make people a little wary.

Sarah, a young, typically buxom woman, led them up the stairs. She spent some time looking coyly at d'Artagnan who had to make it quite clear that he was not interested much to Porthos and Aramis' amusement. With a pout and a flick of her blonde hair, the young woman flounced away. They could hear her shoes clacking on the wooden stairs as she returned to the main room of the tavern.

'You need to learn to let them down gently,' said Aramis, as he put his arm around the younger Musketeer with a sage nod.

D'Artagnan brushed his brother off with a shake of his head.

'How she was interested in you is a wonder,' said Porthos as he returned from putting his and Aramis' saddlebags in the room opposite.

D'Artagnan looked a little hurt at the remark.

Athos said, 'I think he is referring to the fact that we all look a little worse for wear.'

'When was the last time we were able to have a proper wash,' asked Aramis with a slightly disgruntled sniff of the air.

Porthos huffed out a laugh, 'why? You plannin' on going after young Sarah?'

Aramis winked at him before saying, 'to be honest, my friend, I think I would rather have a good night with that bed than with a woman at the moment.'

Athos nodded his agreement; they were all tired. A good meal, a couple of hours relaxing in the tavern followed by several hours sleep would be welcomed by them all.

They returned to the main room to find the tavern keeper had made a table available for them. The other patrons were still watching them. The group were made up of farmers and older men and women. Their hard-wearing clothing and weather-beaten appearances enough to show the tough lifestyle they all lived.

The blonde serving girl reappeared. She set bowls or a spiced stew down in front of each of them making sure to spill a little of d'Artagnan's as she thumped his down. Athos watched Aramis and Porthos smirking as d'Artagnan used a cloth to wipe the spilt food away from the edge of the table. As Sarah walked off, pausing to talk to a couple of the younger customers the tavern keeper arrived with two jugs of wine and four cups.

'Thank you, monsieur,' said Athos as he poured the wine.

'Dennel,' said the tavern keeper. 'We can't have France's soldiers going hungry or thirsty.'

Dennel made a polite bow before retreating to his bar and his locals. A couple of the burlier men were looking over. Athos suspected they were trying to decide if the Musketeers were a threat or if they might be able to take them out in a fight. Athos knew they would not.

As they ate the food, which Athos found was better than most small village taverns offered, they listened to the conversation that was engrossing most of the patrons.

'…and I'm tellin' you, Paul,' said an old woman who was smoking a pipe as she spoke, 'the beast is affected by it. You mark my words. Keep your children in. And get them goats locked up.'

The man she was addressing, one of the burly men, laughed, 'there ain't no such thing, Mill' ain't no such thing.

'Emilie knows what she's talkin' 'bout,' said one of the other older villagers. 'She's lived here longer than you youngun's.'

The old woman sucked on her pipe for a few seconds her gaze wandered to the Musketeers who were still eating their stew.

'You boys made a good choice to get off the road,' she said. 'That their moon will be full tonight. Ain't safe out there on nights when she's full.'

Athos glanced at his brothers. D'Artagnan looked vaguely amused, Aramis was feigning interest and Porthos was paying more attention to his stew. They were used to locals in small villages believing in things that were clearly impossible. The old ways were more prevalent the further from the larger towns and cities they were.

D'Artagnan humoured the old woman, 'why?' he asked. 'What is it that frightens you?'

The burly men scoffed and puffed out their chests a bit. Athos looked away, catching Aramis' eyes, they were both struggling not to react to the act of bravado from the men.

'The beast,' said Emilie.

The old man nodded, 'she knows about the beast. And that poor lad, half-dead he was, he knew about the beast.'

Athos turned back to the villagers; his curiosity finally piqued.

The old woman noticed that she had their attention, she leaned forward a little, pulling her dull green shawl tighter around her bony shoulders.

'Young Denis, he'd gone to get the sheep in, only a short distance from his home. But it was dark. Four weeks ago, it was the last full moon. When they found him the next morning, they knew he wouldn't last more than a couple of hours. He mumbled and moaned.'

Emilie paused to take a few puffs on her pipe, the tension in the room had gone up steadily as she spoke. Athos noticed that everyone was paying their full attention to the old woman, even Porthos had put his fork down.

'All that he said as he faded away was that the man-beast had attacked him. He talked of a walking wolf. Walking on two legs like a man.'

Porthos scoffed, 'poor lad must've been confused,' he said.

'Mark my words, young man,' said Emilie, using her pipe to point at Porthos, 'you wouldn't be so flippant if you'd seen what the beast-man can do to a full-grown sheep.'

One of the middle-aged men said, 'couple of months ago I lost three sheep to the beast. Ripped to shreds they were. My oxen were attacked as well…I was lucky not to have to put it out of its misery.'

Aramis shook his head, 'it's wolves,' he said. 'there must be someone you can hire to hunt them or scare them off?'

The farmer looked at Aramis, 'you city dwellers don't understand,' he said scornfully, 'you don't know what it's like to work a farm.'

Athos noticed d'Artagnan about to put the farmer right. He caught his brothers' eye and subtly shook his head. D'Artagnan bit his tongue. They did not need to rile the already concerned villagers up by trying to tell them that they were not as naïve as they thought.

The Musketeers left the locals to their conversation. D'Artagnan leaned forward and spoke quietly.

'I remember we had a run-in with some wolves near my father's farm,' he said. 'We scared them off. A few of the neighbouring farmers and some of the men from the closest village. We got together and managed to shoot a couple of them. That's all they need to do.'

He nodded towards the villagers who were swapping stories of the 'man-beast'.

'Why do they think it's got something to do with the moon?' mused Porthos.

Aramis frowned, thinking for a few seconds, 'perhaps it's simply coincidence,' he suggested. 'The poor lad that was killed was four weeks ago and that farmer was the victim of an attack four weeks before that.'

'Superstition and old wives' tales,' muttered Porthos.

'They are our hosts, we should try not to wind them up,' said Athos.

The last thing they needed was to annoy the villagers. They were strangers passing through. Their ways of life were very different.

MMMM

The four of them looked at each other for a few seconds. The villagers were deep in their own conversation, the old woman continuing to regale them with stories of the man-beast and the fact that the phases of the moon affected it.

Porthos went back to his stew, he had been enjoying it before the old woman had drawn his attention away with her nonsense about walking wolves.

'I suppose the phases of the moon might affect the animals,' mused Aramis. 'The tide and the seasons are affected by the celestial bodies.'

Athos nodded, 'a shame these people do not understand that,' he said.

As Athos had spoken Porthos noticed that some of the locals were listening to them. One of the men shook his head as if annoyed at what Athos had said.

Athos was not finished, 'if they had more of an education, they might not be so easily picked on by their landowners and ultimately the King.'

'I grew up on a farm,' said d'Artagnan with raised eyebrows.

'Present company excepted,' said Athos. 'I do not mean all farmers, just some.'

Athos subtly nodded towards the villagers who were ordering more drinks from Sarah who, Porthos noticed, was busy glaring at d'Artagnan.

They continued their meal for a few more minutes. The tavern had grown busier since they had arrived. Porthos watched as more people filled the empty tables and gathered around the older villagers. The community seemed to have a good sense of belonging, none of the people who had entered the tavern were alone. They were all welcomed. The man that had been paying attention when Athos was berating the villagers was still sat near the bar, listening to the stories that were being told, but he was also watching them. He looked away when Porthos made a point of staring back at him for a few seconds.

The man wore a dark brown jerkin that had seen better days a clean rip in it where it had been caught on something sharp meant that the left side dangled a little. Porthos wondered why the man had not had the rip repaired. The man looked across at their table again when Athos rose and collected the empty bottles. Porthos could see the man following Athos' every move as the Musketeer made his way towards the bar.

As Athos reached the bar the man moved to stand behind him, the man appeared to already have a drink. Athos spoke briefly to Dennel as another bottle of wine was prepared for them. As Athos stepped away from the bar the man made sure that he bumped into him. The result being that the man's drink was spilt. Athos stepped back; he was about to speak when the man spoke first. Porthos could tell the man was angry but could not hear what was said over the noise of the now busy tavern. Dennel said something to the man, Porthos guessed to calm him down. Athos put the bottle of wine down and shook his hands, splashes flying off as he did so. The Musketeer pointed at the man's cup and indicated something to Dennel who nodded and took the cup, refilling it for the man. Athos pushed a couple of coins into the tavern keeper's hand. The man looked at Athos for a few seconds before putting his cup down on the bar and walking off, brushing past Athos as he did so. Athos watched the man go, a look of confusion on his face. Dennel said something to Athos but Athos shook his head, picked up the bottle of wine and made his way back toward their table.

'What happened there?' asked Aramis as Athos sat back down.

'He bumped into me,' said Athos with a shake of his head. 'I think he has had a bit too much to drink, he said it was my fault. I offered to replace the drink, but he got himself rather worked up and left.'

'I think,' said Porthos, 'that we won't stay here again. And we won't recommend the place…even though the food is good.'

They could not hear the conversation about the attacks on the livestock as the general hubbub of the tavern was drowning out the old woman's words. They caught the odd few lines about mutilated goats and ewes losing lambs, all the attacks happened on a full moon.

'Perhaps,' said d'Artagnan, 'the wolves attack when the moon is full because they can see better- '

He paused and smiled.

'But that's ridiculous because they obviously hunt the rest of the month as well,' he concluded with a chuckle.

'I doubt we shall get to the bottom of the mystery,' said Aramis. 'I hope that they can sort it out though. The fact that a villager has been killed is bad.'

They all agreed on that point. It was one thing to make fun of the villagers and their simple ways but another to mock them when they had lost one of their own.

The door to the tavern was pushed open, a cool blast of air circulating the tavern as the man with the ripped gilet returned. He glanced around the tavern for a few seconds before crossing to their table.

'Perhaps he wants his drink after all,' said Aramis before the man reached them.

The man stopped by Athos who looked up at him but did not say anything.

'I… er… wanted to apologise,' he said. 'I was wound up. I'd had an argument with the wife…'

'There is no need to apologise, monsieur,' said Athos calmly.

'Thank you,' said the man before looking up suddenly across the room.

The four Musketeers all followed his gaze, Sarah was pushing one of the locals off her, but she seemed quite capable of dealing with the drunk customer. They returned their attention to the man who was standing rocking on his heels, his hands thrust deep in his pockets.

'I'll… er… let you get on then,' he said before walking off back the way he came.

They watched him go, he did not make eye contact with anyone as he went, disappearing out of the door within a few seconds.

MMMM

'How odd,' said Aramis as the door to the tavern clicked shut behind the man.

'Let's try to forget it,' said Athos as he went back to sipping his wine.

The locals continued to talk about the livestock attacks, it seemed to be the only topic of conversation. A couple of the farmers had left, either laughing at the advice of Emilie or to lock up their animals and check their own homes were secure.

Dennel and Sarah were kept busy with the comings and goings. The wine flowed, food was served, and man-beasts were the topic of conversation.

Aramis watched d'Artagnan trying to catch snippets of conversation as Porthos enjoyed a second helping of the stew. Athos, who was always quiet, seemed unusually so. He had put his cup of wine down and sat back in his chair. The Musketeer looked flushed.

'Are you alright?' asked Aramis after he had observed his friend for a few seconds.

'Actually, no,' replied Athos. 'I think I'll take a moment to get some air.'

Athos rose from the table and made his way to the door of the tavern.

'I'll go and see he's alright,' said Aramis, 'he might need protecting from the beast...'

He winked at his brothers before following Athos. As he walked to the door, he tried to think what could have caused Athos to feel ill. They had all eaten and drunk the same things, they had all been together over the previous few days. Aramis could not think of anything that Athos had done differently to the rest of them.

He reached the door and stepped out into the rapidly darkening night. The street and clearing were much the same as when they had arrived. Aramis could not see anyone apart from his friend walking away from him. Perhaps the busy tavern had become too stuffy for Athos although he had never been affected before. Aramis guessed Athos would turn at the end of the road and walk back.

As Aramis started to walk towards his friend, he was surprised to see the man that had caused Athos issues in the tavern step out from between the last two houses. Athos turned towards the man who went to strike him. The trained soldier was quicker. Athos blocked the initial blow, but, thought Aramis, his reaction was a little slower than it would have been normally. If Athos was ill, he might not have been able to fight back. Aramis broke into a run, closing the gap between him and the fighting men in a matter of seconds. Aramis had not drawn his guns or sword, confident that he could subdue the man without them. Athos had pulled his main gauche as Aramis reached him. The man backed off slightly as Athos turned towards Aramis.

Aramis knew what was going to happen and knew it was his own fault. Athos swung around; his parrying dagger twisted in his hand as he turned. Athos punched out, not realising he was hitting his friend.

The last thing Aramis knew before the blackness consumed him was a woman screaming from somewhere near the tavern.

MMMM


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

'When they get back,' said Porthos with a nod towards the door that their friends had disappeared through, 'we'll call it a night. We're all tired and if Athos ain't feeling well it's only a matter of time before he says or does something to upset that lot even more.'

Porthos tilted his head in the general direction of the villagers sat at the tables behind him. D'Artagnan nodded as he drained his cup of wine.

'We can leave them to their old wives' tales,' said d'Artagnan. 'They've suffered loses and are trying to justify it by making it something it's not.'

The entire tavern went quiet when a piercing scream came from the doorway. Sarah who had opened the door to tip some water away was staring along the road. She glanced into the tavern her face pale, almost white with shock.

'The beast,' she said, her eyes wide.

Several men scrambled up and rushed to the door. The burly farmers ran out of sight. Sarah remained where she was her hand over her mouth as she continued to stare along the road. D'Artagnan and Porthos reached the door and stepped out into the cool evening. Shouts and a scuffle drew their attention. Both men were shocked at what they saw.

Two of the bigger farmers were grappling with Athos, dragging him back a few paces, his parrying dagger dropping from his hand as they pulled and pushed him about. Athos was trying to pull himself free, his focus on the prone form of Aramis lying sprawled on the ground.

'He's the beast,' shouted one of the other men that had rushed out of the tavern.

Athos looked around at the gathering crowd of locals, his expression confused. Porthos reached the men a step ahead of d'Artagnan.

'He attacked that soldier, hit him with the hilt of his dagger,' said Sarah, who had moved forward with Emilie who was holding onto the younger woman's arm.

'I did not,' said Athos. 'That was an accident. The man…the one that bumped into me he attacked me - '

'Lies,' cried Emilie pointing at Athos with her pipe. 'It's you. You can't help yourself,' she looked up at the clear sky towards the bright moon. 'The moon has you under her control.'

'What!' said d'Artagnan.

Porthos crouched by Aramis who had not moved, 'he's unconscious. Been hit on the head.'

'I did not know it was him,' Athos said. 'He ran up behind me. I… I thought it was more of them.'

Athos pulled at the farmers who were keeping a tight hold of him.

'Why would he deliberately attack his friend?' d'Artagnan pointed out.

'He's an imposter, pretending to be your friend,' the old man said.

'Where's the other man?' said Porthos.

Athos looked around, realising the man that had berated him over the spilt drink was nowhere to be seen.

'He ran away,' said Sarah. 'I saw them fighting. Jean looked terrified. When the beast hit the soldier, Jean ran.'

Athos looked around at the gathered villagers, d'Artagnan could see the confusion in his friends' eyes.

'Lock him up,' said the old man.

Emilie nodded, 'yes. Lock him up before he turns completely. The night is still young, the moon will not have reached her full power yet. We're lucky we caught him before he took on his true form.'

'This is ridiculous,' said d'Artagnan, taking a couple of steps towards Athos.

The villagers blocked his path, the big men puffed themselves up again. D'Artagnan knew they could not take on the entire hostile group of men and woman. He backed up a couple of paces.

'Put him in the new barn,' said the old man. 'It's strong, should hold him until the Comte can be summoned.'

'He'll know what to do,' said Emilie.

'Is he a sensible man?' asked Porthos his words dripping with sarcasm. 'Will he see that you're all deranged?'

The villagers mumbled at Porthos, one of the men pushed his sleeves up, showing off his strong arms. D'Artagnan knew that one on one Porthos would have been able to take the man out easily, but with the mob of angry locals to back him up the situation was becoming dangerous.

'Fine,' said Athos, who seemed to have collected himself a little. 'Lock me up. If that will make you feel better, but please let my friends see to Aramis.'

The villagers looked at Athos warily before moving out of the way as the two men holding him forced him to walk across the clearing towards a barn on the other side. The barn had only one small window and strong looking walls built of brick and wood. D'Artagnan and Porthos remained where they were watching their friend being locked up.

The farmers paused by the door and pulled Athos' weapons from him, throwing them to the ground. The strong, solid-looking door was pushed shut after Athos was shoved into the building. A wooden plank slid across to keep the door firmly closed. There was no chance of Athos escaping.

Emilie looked down at Aramis who had not stirred, 'we'll take care of your friend – '

'You will not,' rebuked Porthos angrily. 'None of you is touching him.'

D'Artagnan moved to stand by Porthos as he pulled the still unconscious Aramis into a sitting position. It was not ideal having to move their friend without checking his injuries properly but the atmosphere out on the street was too hostile. The Musketeers had already watched one of their friends taken from them they did not want to deal with Aramis out in the open. Porthos managed to pull Aramis over his shoulder and carried him back towards the tavern. D'Artagnan followed walking backwards watching the locals who remained where they were watching the retreating Musketeers with occasional glances towards the barn where the burly farmers had taken up guard duty.

D'Artagnan was not sure what to make of the bizarre situation. The only thing they could do was deal with Aramis whilst they waited for the landowner to arrive. Once the Comte had spoken to his tenants and put them straight Athos would be released.

At least that was what d'Artagnan hoped would happen.

MMMM

It had all happened too quickly for Athos to really take in what had gone on. He had felt a little nausea in the tavern, something he only really experienced after a particularly heavy drinking session. The cool evening air had helped. Once free of the noise of the tavern Athos had wandered along the road a little looking at the assortment of houses trying to guess how long each had been there. The simple distraction as he took a few deep breathes had been welcomed.

When he had been approached by the man that had argued with him it had not taken much effort to deflect the blow. He had drawn his main gauche, more to scare the man off than to actually cause him harm. Athos had still been feeling a little ill as the confrontation continued, he had hoped that by arming himself the man would back off. What he had not expected was for someone to rush up to them both from behind. He had regretted his action immediately but at the time, the split second he had made the decision it had been the right thing to do. He had twisted the dagger around so that he could hit the man that was rushing up to him. Even as the blow landed and he saw the shocked expression on Aramis' face Athos knew there would be more problems.

The scream from Sarah was enough to bring several men barrelling towards him. He had not had time to check on Aramis who had crumpled to the ground. The men had grabbed him, a bizarre conversation had ensured culminating in him being thrown into a barn with no idea if Aramis was alright or not.

His feelings of nausea had abated he realised as he walked slowly around his prison. The light from the small window did not offer much illumination. Running one hand along the solid walls he completed two circuits of the small barn checking the corners, looking high and low, searching for any weak point. Whenever he was captured and imprisoned Athos always followed the same routine, even when he knew it was a pointless exercise. After his second walk around the barn, he paused at the heavy wooden door and listened. He could hear the farmers that had put him in the room talking on the other side but could not make out what they were saying. He sighed and moved to the opposite wall turned and after leaning against it for a few seconds slid down to sit on the ground.

He wondered how long it would be before the Comte arrived. Would he be stuck in the chilly barn until the next morning, he hoped not? The Comte who he had only heard of, never met, was a man in his fifties. Comte Lavigne was not one of the nobles who liked to fawn around the King, he kept to himself only venturing to Paris when duty or the King demanded.

Athos stared at the door. All he could do was wait.

MMMM

'Will he be alright?' Porthos asked as he watched d'Artagnan checking their friend.

He had managed to carry Aramis up the stairs and into the room they were meant to be sharing, with d'Artagnan's help he had laid his unconscious friend on one of the beds. Aramis was showing no signs of regaining consciousness. A darkening bruise across the side of his face where Athos had inadvertently struck him appeared to be the only injury. After easing Aramis out of his doublet. D'Artagnan took the time to carefully feel Aramis' limbs and chest in case they were missing something, but it appeared nothing else was responsible for their friends continued stillness than the blow to the head.

'I guess,' said d'Artagnan after he had finished looking Aramis over.

The young Musketeer looked up at Porthos who had remained standing.

'I'm not as trained for this as he is. We really need him to tell us. He's unconscious, I can't find any other injuries. All we can do is wait,' continued d'Artagnan with a shrug of his shoulders.

Porthos nodded his understanding. He moved to sit on the other bed, they looked at each other for a few moments.

'We could have just gone to the next town,' said Porthos with a sigh. 'One of us should have gone with Athos when he went out to get some air. We should have fought the villagers – '

'We could have or should have done a lot of things,' interrupted d'Artagnan. 'But we didn't, and we weren't to know this was going to happen, were we? We can't blame ourselves for this.'

'Once the Comte gets here, he'll sort the villagers out. I can't believe there was no voice of reason apart from us out there,' said Porthos with a shake of his head. 'We'll leave as soon as Aramis is able. I don't want to be here any longer than we have to be.'

Some noises from the floor below drew their attention. Scraping sounds of furniture being moved with accompanying instructions being given by someone else.

'Wonder what's going on down there?' said d'Artagnan.

'Don't know, don't care,' said Porthos swinging his legs up on the bed and lying down as he spoke.

Porthos stared at the wooden ceiling watching a spider weaving a web methodically.

The noises continued for several minutes followed by more voices, some louder than others. A few raised voices followed by silence. The sound of someone climbing the stairs had both Musketeers climbing to their feet.

A firm knock at the door followed. D'Artagnan opened the door wide enough for Porthos to see Denney standing on the landing.

'The Comte is here; he's waiting for you so that he can begin proceedings.'

'Proceedings?'

'The trial,' said Denney in answer to d'Artagnan's question.

'Trial? What trial?'

'The man-beasts,' said Denney. 'It must be done now before he changes. We only have a couple of hours.'

D'Artagnan looked back at Porthos who was fuming.

'We thought you'd like to be there when justice is done for the attack on your friend,' Denney said with a nod towards Aramis. 'You don't have to come…'

'We'll be there in a moment,' said d'Artagnan before closing the door in Denney's face.

'This gets more ridiculous by the seconds,' said Porthos before glancing at the bed where Aramis lay. 'I'm not happy about leaving Aramis alone…but I think we both need to be there.'

D'Artagnan nodded, he looked at Aramis for a few seconds, 'we'll have to take the chance that he doesn't come around until we've got this sorted out.'

They straightened their doublets, checked their weapons and left the room, carefully closing the door behind them. As they descended the stairs to the main room of the tavern, they could hear a general murmur of voices. The room had been transformed. All but one of the tables had been moved to one end of the room. The chairs and benches had been arranged in rows facing the one table that was closest to the door. Three chairs were behind the table. The villagers were busy arranging themselves in the rows of chairs and benches. Emilie, her pipe sending wisps of smoke into the air, was sat at the front next to the old man. Denney and Sarah were sat nearest to the bar. Denney nodded to a space next to him, two chairs had been left vacant.

Porthos and d'Artagnan took the chairs which were arranged side on to the rest of the room, they could watch the villagers and the three men who were sitting at the table. One man was busy making some notes in a large book, his ink-stained hands told Porthos the man was a clerk, probably in the employ of the Comte. At the other end of the table sat a priest who was talking quietly to the man in the middle of the three.

The Comte was nodding as the priest spoke. The man, in his fifties, was not wearing fancy clothes, he wore a simple tailored doublet. His slightly tanned features indicated he spent a lot of his time outside.

After a few moments the door to the tavern was opened and the farmers that had been left watching the barn appeared. The farmers were now armed with billhooks. Athos walked between them. The villagers went quiet, a couple of the women gasped and leaned into their husbands. Porthos rolled his eyes and shook his head. Athos glanced across at them and nodded that he was alright, he mouthed the word 'Aramis' to them. Porthos saw d'Artagnan mouth something back which seemed to placate Athos who nodded again before allowing the farmers to lead him across the room and stood between them.

The Comte knocked on the table, causing all in the room to look in his direction, he paused for a moment, looking at Athos, before speaking.

'You are accused of attacking three men,' said the Comte, 'you are also accused of being the attacker of livestock.'

'Three men?' said d'Artagnan.

The Comte turned to the two watching Musketeers, 'and you are?'

'D'Artagnan of the King's Musketeers.'

'Well, d'Artagnan of the King's Musketeers,' sneered the Comte, 'I am Comte Lavigne, I am the landowner and will have my say. Interrupt me again you may find yourself joining this creature,' he nodded towards Athos, 'on the other side of the room.'

Porthos looked across to Athos who shook his head and indicated for them both to do as they were told.

'In your demonic evil form, you have been attacking and killing my tenant's livestock and therefore making it difficult for them to pay their rent. I will not allow this to continue. That alone would have been enough to see you hang – '

Porthos had to lay a restraining hand on d'Artagnan's arm when the Musketeer went to stand up.

'– but you have also attacked and killed one man and then attacked two more earlier today. And,' Lavigne paused for a couple of seconds, 'you appear to have confounded these soldiers into believing that you are their friend.'

The Comte looked at Porthos and d'Artagnan for a few seconds before looking at Sarah.

'Sarah,' he said, his tone one of encouragement, 'tell the people what you saw.'

Sarah rose from her seat, she was clutching a handkerchief, her hands were trembling slightly. She did not make eye contact with anyone.

'I'd just stepped out to empty the water jug,' she said. 'I looked up the road and saw them. Monsieur Chaput had his arms raised up like this – '

She raised both her arms as if she was defending herself.

'- he looked scared. The beast was leaning over him, ready to bite him.'

She paused as the villagers started to whisper to each other, silence returned when the Comte looked sternly at them. He indicated for Sarah to continue.

'The soldier was running up to help but the beast struck him down… I screamed.'

'Thank you, Sarah,' said the Comte.

Sarah sat down, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief as she did so.

Lavigne looked towards the old man who rose to his feet.

'I spoke to Jean – '

'Monsieur Chaput?' asked the Comte.

The old man nodded, 'yes Monsieur, Jean Chaput, he was shaking with fear. He said the beast had laughed after he heard us talking about the attacks. He obviously had the soldiers under a spell, they were going along with what he was saying.'

The Comte nodded and waved the old man to sit down. Emilie patted his arm and said something to him that Porthos could not hear.

'Are there any other witnesses?' asked Lavigne looking around the room.

'Aramis will be able to tell you what actually happened,' said Porthos, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

The Comte looked at Porthos for a few seconds.

'And who is Aramis?'

'The soldier that the beast attacked,' said Denney before Porthos could reply. 'He's still unconscious.'

Denney pointed at the ceiling, indicating that Aramis was in the bedroom above them. The Comte nodded. He moved his attention to Emilie.

'Madam,' he said, 'you are wiser than me on this subject. You mentioned earlier that the wolf beast cannot be killed on the night of the full moon.'

Emilie, who seemed to be relishing her moment as the centre of attention nodded and puffed on her pipe a few times.

'He won't die tonight,' she said with a slow nod. 'You will have to wait until the morning when he will be at his weakest. After he has changed back.'

'What?' said Porthos ignoring Athos' gesture for him to remain silent. 'You're not actually going along with this man-beast nonsense? You've not even heard what happened from Aramis' point of view- '

'The victim of the man-beast is under his spell. Once we are rid of him you will see that you have also been victims.'

Lavigne looked at Porthos with a pitying expression. Porthos was about to continue to protest when several of the villagers gasped. Porthos turned to find Aramis standing at the bottom of the stairs. The injured Musketeer looked pale and confused, he had not put his doublet or weapons back on making him look vulnerable. He had one hand out on the wall for support, the bruising to the side of his face looked worse.

'What's going on?' asked Aramis as he looked around the room.

Aramis walked a couple of steps forward before stumbling slightly, grabbing the back of the nearest chair for support. Porthos moved towards his friend but found his way blocked by a couple of the villagers.

'Remain where you are,' said Lavigne.

'But he's injured,' protested Athos, speaking for the first time since he was brought into the room. 'Let them help him.'

'You will be silent, or you will be gagged,' said the Comte firmly.

Porthos allowed the two men that had stopped him going to Aramis to push him back to his seat. Another man was helping Aramis to walk forward. Aramis still looked confused, he looked at Athos.

'Are you alright? I know you didn't mean to hit me…'

Aramis paused, looking at the way the room had been set up.

'Has Athos been accused of something?' Aramis asked.

'They reckon he's the man-beast,' said d'Artagnan.

'What?'

Porthos nodded, 'he's been accused of murder and attacking you and the man that bumped into him. They want to hang him. In the morning…when he's at his weakest.'

Aramis stared at Porthos for a few seconds as the brief update sunk in. He turned slowly to look at Lavigne.

'The man that bumped into him, he was angry with Athos,' said Aramis. 'When I went to check on Athos the man attacked him.'

The Comte nodded and smiled, he turned to the villagers, 'as you can see the beast has completely spellbound this soldier.'

Aramis was about to speak again but the Comte turned to Athos.

'You will be secured in the barn until dawn when you have changed back into your human form you will be hanged.'

Aramis shook his head, 'what's wrong with you. He's standing there in his human form. If he was some sort of demonic creature wouldn't have had attacked you by now?'

'He is biding his time,' said Emilie. 'He will need to change soon though; the moon's embrace will take him.'

The Comte nodded, he looked across to Athos and the two farmers, 'lock the beast up. Remain vigilant.'

Porthos and d'Artagnan both stepped forward at the same time but found themselves grabbed by several of the village men who held them firmly, preventing them from reaching any of their weapons. Aramis rushed forward and tried to push the farmers away from Athos but only succeeded in stumbling into his friend. Athos had to grab hold of him firmly to stop him from falling to the floor.

'You can't do this,' said Aramis, his words starting to sound slurred, as the exertion got the better of him. 'He's a man. What's wrong with you all?'

A few of the villagers started to shout abuse at Athos and Aramis. Lavigne raised his hand to quieten the rowdy people.

'If you are so certain he is not a creature of the devil you can spend the night with him. If you are still alive in the morning, we will know.'

Athos shook his head, 'he's been injured, he – '

'Silence,' said Lavigne, 'take them away.'

As the farmers forced Athos and Aramis towards the door Porthos tried to push the men restraining him away. The men were holding him firmly, he could only watch as his friends were taken from the room. Aramis stumbled from Athos' grasp, falling to the floor. One of the villagers, a strong-looking man, hauled Aramis back to his feet. Aramis was practically dragged from the tavern.

As the Musketeers were taken away Lavigne looked at Porthos and d'Artagnan.

'You are welcome to stay and retrieve whatever is left of your friend's body in the morning. Do not try to interfere or you will be put in the barn as well. You will see in the morning when the man-beast dies… you will thank us then.'

Porthos stared at the man, unable to come up with a response.

MMMM


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

'Take your jacket off,' said one of the farmers as they reached the barn again.

'What?' said Athos.

'You ain't gonna need it, and it'll only get damaged when you change – '

'He's not going to change,' said Aramis who had been revived a little by the cool air.

The strong man that was holding Aramis up, shoved him passed Athos and into the barn. Athos heard his friend hit the far wall and fall to the floor. He tried to get to Aramis but found himself being pulled about by the farmers. They obviously saw him as more of a threat now that he had been condemned and were keeping a tight hold of him. His doublet was forcefully pulled off him before he was pushed into the barn, the door being closed quickly behind him.

He crouched by Aramis who was trying to push himself into a sitting position.

'Not sure how we get out of this,' said Aramis as Athos steadied him.

'I am still trying to grasp how this has happened. I do not think I have ever met a more backward thinking group of people. And how Lavigne is the same is beyond me.'

Aramis shivered. Athos returned to the door and banged on it.

'At least provide us with some blankets,' he said.

'You won't need 'em,' came the surly response through the closed door.

'My friend will,' replied Athos.

When he did not receive another response, he moved to the small window and peered out. He could not see much; the window was high enough that he had to push himself up onto his toes to even see the roofs of the houses.

'I think you were drugged,' said Aramis from behind him.

Athos turned back to his friend who had drawn his knees up in an attempt to keep warm.

'Drugged?'

'I think that man did it. He heard us making fun of the villagers and wanted to get his own back.'

Athos moved to sit beside Aramis, hoping his proximity would help to keep them both warm.

'When he came back and made his fake apology, do you remember he suddenly looked over to the other side of the tavern and we all looked as well?'

Athos nodded slowly as he realised what Aramis was saying could be correct.

'When we looked back, he had his hands in his pocket. I think he'd dropped something in your drink and perhaps it left his hand marked in some way…'

Aramis trailed off for a few seconds.

'…I don't know what it could have been…'

He blinked, his head nodding forward slightly.

'Try to rest for a bit,' said Athos.

Aramis had already closed his eyes and either fallen asleep or passed out.

Athos thought about what Aramis had said. If he had been drugged with something that would make him want to go outside it explained why Chaput had been ready for him, and why the man was able to strike him. Whatever he had been drugged with did not last very long as the feelings of nausea had faded away completely but had for a short while left him feeling weakened. The seed was easily planted in the naïve villagers' heads and Sarah had probably misremembered what she had seen to fit in with the idea that he was a demonic creature affected by the phases of the moon.

'Well we're under his spell aren't we,' came Porthos' agitated voice from outside. 'We feel compelled to speak to 'im.'

Athos scrambled up and went to the window.

'And we feel compelled to speak to 'im alone. You can watch from over there for five minutes. Feel free to shoot us if we turn into savage beasts.'

Athos smirked as the farmers muttered something in response. He could hear some shuffled footsteps moving away from the door.

'Athos?' d'Artagnan was outside the small window.

'Here,' Athos answered. 'Aramis has passed out. He said I must have been drugged. That is why I felt ill.'

'Makes sense,' said Porthos. 'Was it this Chaput? The one who argued with you in the tavern.'

Athos nodded before remembering his friends could not see him.

'Yes. He has managed to weave this little fantasy to fit with the old woman's stories of beasts and demons.'

'Clever,' said d'Artagnan. 'We'll pay him a visit.'

'Don't go anywhere will you,' said Porthos.

Athos shook his head, 'be careful or I will make you my next victim.'

Porthos chuckled grimly before saying, 'we'll get this sorted.'

'I would appreciate that,' said Athos, before adding, 'preferably before sunrise.'

He heard his friends move off and a brief conversation a few yards away that he could not make out. There was nothing else he could do except keep an eye on Aramis.

MMMM

The farmers had reluctantly told them where Jean Chaput lived. The house was a little distance from the village, it took them at least half an hour to find it, tucked away behind a thick tangle of trees. A couple of small fields behind the house with a collection of goats and sheep were the man's means of making a living. He lived with his wife and two children. The farmers had laughed when they said he lived with his wife, d'Artagnan could not work out why.

They walked quickly towards the small house. D'Artagnan continued to replay all that had gone on in his head. The situation was grim. There were far too many villagers for them to fight and there was not enough time for them to get help from sane people. Their only way of clearing Athos' name was to prove his innocence. They could just wait until the morning and let the villagers find Aramis still alive but somehow d'Artagnan did not think it would be that simple. The locals would probably still find some reason to cause Athos harm.

Chaput's house was a little run down. Where the other houses in the village were maintained and had the odd touches of family life about them Chaput's was lacklustre. Madam Chaput did not appear to want to impress her neighbours with herbs or flowers. There was a vegetable garden at the side of the property but nothing to indicate a house-proud woman lived there.

Lights flickered in the two windows and the door was slightly open as they approached.

'Something seems odd,' remarked Porthos as they drew level with the house.

When they heard shouting within the house, they both moved forward quickly reaching the door and pushing it open in time to see Chaput raising his hand to a boy of about fourteen years old. The boy was standing in front of a woman and a little girl. The woman was crying her face flushed, she was holding the little girl behind her. The little girl, a toy doll clutched tightly in her hands, was staring wide-eyed at Chaput.

The boy, a fresh-looking red mark across his cheek, was trying to stop the man from reaching the woman.

As the door swung open all the occupants of the house looked out. Chaput, his hand still mid-swing, whirled back, he tried to push past Porthos and get out of the house, but Porthos was too quick for him. D'Artagnan quickly sidestepped as his friend wrestled the man to the floor and held him there, using his broader build to keep him there.

'Get off me,' yelled Chaput. 'I've not done anything wrong.'

'What, other than beat your wife and child,' said Porthos, who glanced up for a few seconds before grabbing a cloth from a nearby table and stuffing it in the complaining man's mouth.

D'Artagnan was about to look for something they could restrain the man with when the boy quickly undid his own belt and handed it over, using one hand to hold his breeches up. Between them, they bound Chaput's hands behind him. Porthos remained where he was, sitting across the man's legs, Chaput was not going anywhere until they decided he could.

'Want to tell us what's going on?' asked Porthos.

The boy had moved back a few paces to his mother who grabbed him and rubbed her thumb across his cheek. The little girl clutched at her mother's skirts as she watched the strangers.

'Jean was going to hit me but Jeremie stopped him. He'll kill us one day. Please, messieurs, keep him there whilst I collect some food. We'll go. Leave right now. Please.'

'He's no right to hurt you,' said d'Artagnan. 'He may be your husband, but he shouldn't be beating you, or your children.'

The woman looked down, 'he's not my husband,' she said quietly. 'We're not married.'

'My mama hasn't any rights at all,' said the boy, who was still acting protectively.

The farmer's words about Chaput's wife made sense to d'Artagnan. The men obviously had not approved of the couple living out of wedlock.

'He was fine to start with, he was gentle and caring, then after Jeremie was born he changed…'

The woman looked at the man lying on the floor weakly struggling against Porthos.

'We'll help you to leave,' said d'Artagnan, 'but please, help us first. Our friend has been accused – '

'Of being the man-beast,' finished the woman.

She looked at her son for a few seconds, a silent communication passing between them. Jeremie nodded before turning to d'Artagnan and pointing at a jar of dried seeds on a side table.

'He came home a few hours ago. He rushed in, pushed mama out of the way and grabbed some of the seeds, ground them in the pestle and went.'

'If they're not cooked properly, they can make you feel ill, hot and weak,' said the woman. 'He knows that he had some himself a while ago…'

The woman looked away, d'Artagnan could guess who would have been on the receiving end of his annoyance when he recovered.

'Jeremie,' said d'Artagnan, 'do you think you could help us?'

Jeremie looked at his mother then back at d'Artagnan.

'If you help us to leave I will,' replied the boy.

MMMM

Aramis moaned before raising his hand to the side of his face. Athos stopped him from touching the bruises. Aramis opened his eyes; it took him a few seconds to focus but he seemed more alert than the previous time he had woken.

'Haven't you escaped yet?'

Athos looked at his friend for a few seconds.

'How could I have escaped? What is the last thing you remember?'

'You helping me to sit straight and me telling you that you'd been drugged…'

Aramis looked away for a few seconds before reaching into his boot. He pulled out a dagger.

'Sorry,' he said, 'I must have forgotten. I grabbed it when they were pushing us about before we were put in here.'

Athos raised his eyebrows, impressed with his injured friends' forethought to grab a weapon when he had been struggling to even walk properly.

'I meant to give it to you when we were locked in,' said Aramis.

'I think you can be forgiven,' said Athos with a smile as he took the dagger.

Athos went to the corner of the barn where he had noticed that the brickwork was of slightly poorer quality. He crouched down and lightly ran the point of the blade over the join of the stones. The mortar crumbled away easily. He glanced at Aramis who smiled. He went to work scraping the blade across the mortar repeatedly, the noise was not enough to draw the attention of the two farmers who were guarding them. The two men were outside the main door. They had not moved, they were not patrolling, they were not walking around the barn. It amused Athos that the men were so sure that the barn was solidly built that they did not think it necessary to check the walls.

As the dust and particles built up below the bricks Athos brushed them about so that there was not an obvious pile. If one of the guards decided to open the door he could simply turn around and sit with his back to the corner of the room where he had been working on their escape route.

The crumbling mortar was falling away quickly enough that Athos allowed himself a small amount of hope. If he could dislodge enough bricks in the corner of the room, they could probably slip out.

He rolled his shoulders and tried to work a kink out of his neck, the position he was working in had left him uncomfortable.

'Let me take over for a bit,' said Aramis quietly.

'Are you sure? You still look pale. I do not want you keeling over on me.'

Aramis smiled, 'I'm sure I'll be fine for a few minutes. Long enough for you to straighten up for a bit.'

Athos handed over the dagger, he noticed that Aramis' hand shook slightly as he took it, but if it meant the work on their escape continued whilst he took a few minutes to rest he was prepared to let his friend take a turn.

Aramis crouched in the corner and continued with the methodical scraping and scratching at the brickwork.

Athos stood up, stretching his arms above his head for a few seconds. He wandered towards the small window and tried to look out. He could hear the guards talking but their mundane conversation about farming and the weather did not interest him. He looked in the other direction and paused. The large tree that dominated the clearing, its long low branches creating shade for the villagers was being employed for a far more macabre use. He could not see the men throwing the rope, but he could see the rope. It sailed through the air over the branch. Athos knew it was the rope intended to end his life in a matter of hours.

A gasp of pain followed by a string of quiet curses from Aramis had Athos turn back. His friend had stumbled backwards, the dagger falling from his hand as he did so. A bloody wound to his left arm and a look of shock and regret on Aramis' face told Athos all he needed to know.

'I'm sorry,' said Aramis as he grabbed his arm, applying pressure to the wound. 'It slipped. It'll need stitches.'

Athos eased Aramis' hand away from the cut, Aramis was correct, the deep wound was bleeding freely. Athos pressed Aramis' hand back over the wound.

'Not your fault Aramis, you are already fatigued from the head wound.'

Aramis looked a little defeated. Athos pulled his shirt loose and ripped a strip of fabric free. The tear was not particularly straight, but he was not bothered with the aesthetics of his improvised bandage at that moment. Patching Aramis up as best he could was far more important. He wrapped the strip of fabric over the wound as firmly as he could, Aramis' blood started to seep through almost straight away.

'I doubt they'll let us have my medical bag,' said Aramis.

Athos shook his head; he helped his pale friend to lean back against the wall near where they were working on the bricks. He picked up the dagger and went back to work. The sooner they could get out the better. He would like to see the looks on the villager's faces in the morning when they opened the doors and found the room empty.

Aramis was leaning back his eyes closed, Athos did not think he had passed out again, but he did not look well. The blow to the head, the night in the cold and then a nasty injury had not been his friends finest few hours.

'It's getting light,' said Aramis after a few minutes of silence.

Athos glanced up at the small window, the dark sky was indeed lightening. The sun would start vying for attention with the full moon. His chances of escape were rapidly diminishing.

Athos continued to scrape at the stones, he had managed to free two bricks and was well on the way to easing a third out when the noise of a crowd approaching made him pause. It was too late. He quickly picked up the bricks that had been removed and slipped them back into place, he just had time to push the dagger into the corner and cover it with loose brick dust as the door was pulled open.

He tried to get to his feet on his own but was denied the chance. Several of the farmers piled into the room grabbing at him and pulling him to his feet. Aramis received similar treatment; Athos could see his friend had to put all his effort into not crying out.

'What's this?' said one of the farmers pointing at the corner of the room.

A silence descended on the villagers as the man took a couple of steps forward and pushed at the loose bricks with his foot, the small hole was opened up. A gasp of shock from some of the people followed.

Lavigne stepped forward, pushing Aramis out of the way as he did so. He stared at the corner of the room before pushing at the dirt for a few seconds and finding the dagger. He turned back to Athos for a few seconds.

'He's bleeding,' said someone.

The Comte turned his attention to Aramis who was trying to stop the men holding him from straightening his arm. Lavigne stepped forward, grabbed Aramis' wrist firmly and pushed his sleeve up, knocking the makeshift bandage free at the same time. The movement caused the wound to start to bleed afresh.

'He's been bitten,' a man somewhere in the crowd exclaimed. 'And look at the man-beast. His shirt is torn where he must have ripped it off when he changed.'

'No,' said Athos. 'I used my shirt to bandage the wound. You can see that… what's wrong with you all…'

'Gag him,' said the Comte who was still firmly holding Aramis' wrist.

Athos tried to fight the men off, but there were too many of them. He was pushed and pulled about for a few seconds. A cloth that tasted of flour was pushed into his mouth, his arms were pulled back and bound firmly behind him. He was panting by the time the men had finished with him. As he finally managed to orientate himself, he saw the Comte still looking at the wound on Aramis' wrist. With a sickening feeling, he knew what was going to happen next. He made eye contact with Aramis trying to apologies. Aramis glanced at him for a second before he was roughly pulled away, out of the barn.

'Get another rope over the branch,' the Comte said. 'This one has been bitten; he must be hanged as well. There is no hope for him.'

MMMM


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

D'Artagnan had been shocked to see how much light was creeping across the sky as they had emerged from the Chaput house. Jeremie had agreed to help them as soon as they had assured him, they would help him, his mother and sister to leave. Porthos had shown the boy his money bag telling him that they would be paid for their help. They had waited impatiently for Madeleine to gather food and what possessions she had together. The little girl had slowly grown more curious and gradually emerged from behind her mother.

Jeremie was walking with little Sophie, hand in hand as Madeleine pushed a small handcart with their belongings in. The two Musketeers were holding Jean Chaput firmly between them. They needed the man with them when they talked to the Comte and ended the farce that had the potential to see their friend hang. Chaput was not resisting them, he allowed them to walk him along the road.

As they neared the village, they could hear shouts and jeers. The sun was not fully up, but there was enough light for the villagers to have decided that it was time to deal with the man-beast. D'Artagnan prayed they were not too late.

D'Artagnan had to remember that he had hold of a prisoner and not rush forward to save his brothers when the clearing at the centre of the village came into view.

The big tree with the long branches was the focus of the villager's attention. A cart had been backed up to the stop under the branch that stretched out alone. Ropes had been slung across the branch and twisted into the unmistakable noose shape. The fact that there were two ropes confused d'Artagnan for a few seconds until they got close enough to see the two men currently sat on the back of the cart.

Athos was bound and gagged, his expression one of pure fury. He was glaring at Lavigne who was giving orders. Next to Athos sat a very pale Aramis, blood covered the sleeve of his shirt. One of the farmers that had been keeping guard during the night was stood behind Aramis, his meaty hands on the Musketeers' shoulders. D'Artagnan guessed the man was needed to keep Aramis from slumping to the side.

As they reached the back of the crowd the Comte gestured towards the cart. Two more men stepped up and forced Athos and Aramis to stand, the nooses were slipped around their necks. The men stepped back down leaving the farmer holding Aramis upright.

Porthos glanced at d'Artagnan who nodded. D'Artagnan took a firmer grip of the compliant man between them as Porthos surged forward with a cry. The Musketeers war cry had the whole crowd go silent, moving rapidly out of the way of the angry man. Porthos was able to get up to the Comte and level his gun at the man before anyone could react. Lavigne looked shocked. He held out his hands to show he was not armed.

D'Artagnan pushed Chaput forward, forcing him to his knees in front of the Comte.

'What is the meaning of this?' said Lavigne, his voice shaking despite his attempt at sound authoritative.

'You are about to murder an innocent man,' said d'Artagnan, his eyes darting to his brothers standing on the back of the cart.

'Explain yourselves,' said the Comte.

'Let them down first,' countered Porthos.

The Comte took a couple of breaths but held his ground, 'you may be able to kill me and possibly a couple of the others, but you would not be able to take on the whole village.'

The Comte did have a point. The Musketeers did not have the upper hand.

Porthos moved slightly to stand slightly behind the Comte, his gun remained squarely aimed at the man's head. He nodded towards Jeremie who was standing a few yards from his father who was knelt with his head bowed forward. Jeremie took a few steps forward.

'My father drugged the Musketeer,' he said, his voice quiet.

'Speak up boy,' said the Comte with irritation.

'My father drugged the Musketeer,' Jeremie said again, his voice stronger the second time.

'He used some seeds that need to be cooked. If they're not cooked, they make you feel sick,' said Madeline who was holding little Sophie close to her.

D'Artagnan, who was loosely holding his own gun said, 'he had an argument with our friend and drugged him to get back at him. He planned this. He wanted Athos to leave the tavern so that he could attack him.'

A few murmurs ran through the crowd. One man pulled his hat off and looked towards the Comte.

'Chaput's always picking fights,' he said. 'They could be right.'

The man shrugged his shoulders before stepping back.

'He's a drunkard,' said Dennel.

The tavern keeper glanced around as a few more of the villagers nodded their agreement.

A shuffling of feet caused d'Artagnan to turn raising his gun slightly. Sarah looked at him warily as she stepped forward.

'What I said before,' she said her fingers entwined in her apron. 'I might have been wrong.'

A couple of women gasped. Sarah looked down; her face flushed with embarrassment.

'It was dark, I thought the soldier was attacking Monsieur Chaput and the other soldier,' she looked at Aramis for a couple of seconds. 'But that might not be what happened.'

More hushed talking followed for a few seconds before several women gasped as Aramis crumpled slightly, the rope around his neck going taut for a few seconds before the man hold him pulled him upright taking most of his weight. Athos tried to speak through his gag, whatever he was saying muffled, but it was clear the words were being said in anger. After a few seconds, Aramis managed to stand on his own again, although the farmer did not completely let him go.

D'Artagnan looked back at Lavigne who looked a little indecisive, he glanced towards the crowd of people as if looking for someone. D'Artagnan followed his gaze and saw the pipe-smoking old woman walking off as hurriedly as she could. With no one left to back up the ridiculous charges, it was clear the Comte had no choice.

'Let them down,' he said quietly.

The man holding Aramis reached up and eased the rope from around his neck before helping him to sit back down on the edge of the cart. Athos waited patiently for his own turn to be freed. Porthos kept his gun on the Comte until both men were free of the noose and the farmer was untying them.

'You are a disgrace,' said the Comte, turning his anger towards Chaput who finally managed to look up for a few seconds. 'I do not want you on my land. You will leave immediately and will not return, or you may face the fate I nearly meted out to them.'

Chaput swallowed as he looked up at the swinging nooses. He nodded before looking back at the ground.

Porthos lowered his gun and circled around to Athos and Aramis. D'Artagnan remained watching Chaput. The Comte turned his attention to Madeleine.

'I understand you are not married to this feeble excuse for a man?'

Madeleine nodded, she looked down shame on her face.

'You have always been a hard-working woman,' continued the Comte. 'If you can pay the rent, I will allow you to keep the house and farm the fields. Your son, how old is he?'

Jeremie stepped forward, 'I am thirteen, monsieur,' he said with a respectful bow.

The Comte managed a small smile, 'you are the man of the house now. You will look after your mother and your sister.'

Jeremie smiled as he straightened up. Madeleine sniffed and smiled as well.

'Thank you, monsieur,' she said.

MMMM

Athos closed the door firmly behind him blotting out the sound of Denney's offers of assistance. Sarah had been ushered out of the room after she had placed the clean bandages and bowl of water on a side table. After a few seconds, Athos turned to face the room.

Aramis was sat on the bed, d'Artagnan beside him with his arm across the injured man's shoulders. Porthos was standing next to them, the anger yet to dissipate from his expression. Athos suspected he looked much the same.

'If I can ride with one of you,' said Aramis, 'I'll be ready to leave as soon as this is stitched.'

Athos nodded, 'thank you. You read my mind. I have no desire to stay here any longer than necessary.'

After they had been helped off the cart Porthos and d'Artagnan had helped Aramis back towards the tavern. Athos had led them, the crowd of villagers parting as they walked. Denney had rushed ahead opening the door and fawning around them, suddenly he could not do enough for them. Some of the other villagers had followed them into the tavern and were making offers of help to Aramis and Athos. All were ignored. Porthos had told Denney that all they required were bandages and water.

Now that they were alone the four Musketeers could finally relax a little, although Athos was sure none of them would be completely happy until they had left the village. If Aramis did not require medical assistance they would have left as soon as they had been freed. Instead, they were back in the bedroom that none of them had actually slept in.

D'Artagnan started to clean up the injury to Aramis' arm. Porthos walked up to Athos and gently pushed him to sit on the other bed dampening a cloth and going about cleaning the grazes he had received when he had been manhandled by the villagers. Athos had not even realised he had been hurt.

'Did you see the old woman, Emilie walking away,' said d'Artagnan as he steadied Aramis when the sting of the spirit on his wound caused him to hiss in pain.

'Did she slink off with her tail between her legs?' asked Aramis when he could speak again.

Athos huffed out a laugh, 'she wants to be careful,' he said, 'if she keeps fuelling the villager's imaginations, they may just turn on her.'

Porthos moved to sit beside Aramis as d'Artagnan readied a needle. As the stitches were being put in it was obvious Aramis was trying his hardest not to pass out, but the combination of the head injury and the hours in the cold and the loss of blood won out in the end.

'Hopefully, he'll wake up feeling a bit better,' said Porthos as he rearranged the now limp man to lie on the bed.

'If I had not knocked him out none of this might have happened,' mused Athos as he watched d'Artagnan wind the fresh bandage around the wound.

'You'd been drugged, Athos,' said Porthos. 'Madeleine said it made people feel sick and weak. You were fighting off one man and – '

'Thought I was being attacked by another,' Athos finished. 'I saw his face as I hit him. He knew I had not known it was him.'

'So, you're not going to feel guilty about this?' asked d'Artagnan.

Athos shook his head, 'it was not my fault, it was not his fault. It was not really the villager's faults. They have been fed misinformation - probably for generations – by people who also probably know no better.'

They settled down to wait for Aramis to come around. Athos knew he should sleep but could not relax. He wandered to the window of the bedroom and looked across the clearing. The daylight had finally chased the last of the night away, the full moon was still visible but much paler now that the sun was up. The villagers were going about their day, some were pausing to look at the tree that still had the ropes hanging from it. Some were talking in small groups with glances towards the tavern. Athos would not feel happy until they had left the village behind.

He turned back to the room, Porthos had stretched out on the other bed and appeared to have fallen asleep, d'Artagnan was perched on the edge of the bed that Aramis was lying on, also asleep. Athos knew that both men would be alert in a second if something were to happen. He let them rest.

He wondered what he would say to Treville on his return to Paris. They would have to report what happened. Have to explain that he had been accused of being a demonic creature by a group of uneducated farmers. What he was not looking forward to having to explain was that those uneducated farmers were not the only ones taken in by the stories. Comte Lavigne seemed to believe them as well. A man with power believing in stories was worrying. Lavigne had been prepared to kill two men because he believed a story created by a drunk man with a grudge. Athos shook his head, he wondered what the King would make of what had happened. Would Lavigne be stripped of his title or left as he was? One thing was certain, Athos had no intention of going anywhere near the village again.

He sat in the other chair and leaned back against the wall, feeling the pull of sleep finally win him over.

'Athos.'

He roused himself and looked up, d'Artagnan was shaking his shoulder.

'Aramis is awake, we can leave.'

Athos nodded and pulled himself up straight in the chair. He glanced at the window and noted that the sun was high in the sky, he had managed to sleep for a few hours. Despite the uncomfortable position he had been sleeping in he felt refreshed.

Porthos was busy helping Aramis to shrug into his doublet. Aramis did not look as pale and seemed much more focused, the enforced sleep had probably done the man some good.

'I've already been down and saddled the houses,' said d'Artagnan as he handed Athos a cup of water and nodded towards a tray of bread and cheese.

'Can we just take the food with us?' suggested Aramis. 'I'd really like to leave this place.'

'I know a spot a few miles away, near a stream, we can stop there,' said Porthos with a nod as he helped Aramis to stand, brushing his doublet straight as he did so.

'I agree,' said Athos.

MMMM

They had left the village with no fuss, the villagers had not approached them, they had moved away. Athos suspected they were embarrassed.

He helped Aramis up behind Porthos as d'Artagnan mounted his own horse and took the reins of Aramis'. They left the village at a trot. They did not look back.

Athos looked at the sky, the moon had finally disappeared. A movement in the trees to the side of them caught his eye. A glimpse of a grey tail disappearing, the soft crunch of leaf litter being disturbed by a large animal moving through it.

Athos hoped the predatory animals moved on and left the villagers and their livestock alone. If they were not there to add weight to the myths the next set of travellers to pass through might get a better reception than they had.

The End.

**Authors note: Thanks for the comments. I hope you enjoyed it.**

**There are many different places to find information about Werewolf lore with a lot of variations. The idea that Werewolves are affected by the lunar cycle is relatively new and would not have been around when our Musketeers had their encounter, I am playing my poetic licence****for that one.**


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